


With Time We Change

by Hadrian_Pendragons



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: F/M, Fanart, Fanfiction, Gen, Inspired Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadrian_Pendragons/pseuds/Hadrian_Pendragons
Summary: Inspired by Drinking Water Like Holy WineIt distances, it brings together, it moves all too quickly. Moments in their lives as they work through time.
Relationships: Kamiki Izumo/Suguro "Bon" Ryuuji, Moriyama Shiemi/Okumura Rin, Okumura Rin & Okumura Yukio
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Fic In A Box





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morphogenesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphogenesis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Drinking Water Like Holy Wine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446629) by [morphogenesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphogenesis/pseuds/morphogenesis). 



> Contains:  
> Fanfiction: 3852 words (Chapter 1)  
> Fanart: Chapters 2, 3, 4 (3 pieces)

_ What do they do now? _

It was over. It was over, and they had failed. The worlds had clashed, and been left to reconcile. And in the middle of it all, he sat paralyzed, waiting.

Waiting for Yukio to show.

But he never, ever did.

And it felt like the world would crash down around him once again.

Rin Okumura, if asked, would say that he appreciated his friends above all else.

His first friends, made when he was fifteen, around the first days of Exorcist Cram School. Those days had been much, much simpler. When he and Yukio lived in their own dorms, the rest of his class sat around a campfire and praised his cooking, poking fun at each other and somehow pulling his brother out of his shell, Shura wrapping an arm around his neck in a joking hold and leading them in drunken song with a grin.

Classes where he and Shiemi sat together and exchanged notes, both gossip and school related. Where Bon made fun of his grades and Rin made fun of his hair. Where Shima the mediator, picked sides anyway for the fun of it because when Rin and Bon got into a squabble it was neither mean-hearted nor serious. Where Konekomaru sighed, but smiled because while they were tiring sometimes, they were his friends too.

The days his brother didn’t seem so distant, nor so far away. The days he knew where his brother  _ was.  _ That he was okay. That Rin wasn’t failing in his duty of older brother to protect him.

The days Rin had to hide himself from them and the world, tail tucked underneath his clothing and smile just the slightest bit dim as he tried to hide the sharpness of his teeth. He dare not think further back, to even simpler times, when Father Fujimoto tied his tie and sent him on his way to another job interview. Those days made his heart ache too much, knowing what he did now. 

His hair was no longer the same dark color it once was. It was white, like snow. His demon heart was no longer sealed away in a sword. It was right beneath his skin, barely hidden from being worn on his sleeve, at risk and in danger constantly—though no demon  _ really  _ dared to get too close. No demon  _ cared  _ to. Not when they had much more access to human hearts than they’d had in millenia.

“Rin?”

His head popped up. Shiemi sat on the other side of the fire, blue eyes ringed by the blue firelight, watching him carefully. He smiled thinly, “Yeah, Shiemi?”

“Do you want to find a town tomorrow?”

They were sitting across from one another. Rin’s arms were wrapped around his legs, chin tucked between his knees. Shiemi poked at the fire, working a piece of wood back into the stack, though really, the only way the fire would go out would be if he fell asleep. 

He hadn’t been sleeping very well lately.

“Yeah. See if anyone’s heard anything.”

They’d been traveling for almost a year now. He was seventeen. Things had changed. They were a lot more complicated.

“We’ll find him, Rin.”

“Yeah,” he muttered back. “We will.”

Because they  _ would.  _ Rin vowed it to himself and to his brother, that he would find him, even if he had to walk to the ends of the earth.

The next day, they head into town. It’s an incredibly uneventful day. No one had heard word about Yukio. Rin used his flames to light a kitchen stove and cook for several of the kids who had been left without parents after the worlds melded together, and gave some hardy stock to the adults for safekeeping.

They spent a couple of days in town, in actual beds, with no need to keep a fire going all night. Rin still wanders downstairs in the empty home they stayed at and lights one in the fireplace. He had gotten so much better at control. Would his brother be proud of him?

Eventually, Shiemi wanders down to join him.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he whispers, staring into the flames, forming blobs that were supposed to be shapes and attempting to create Kuro out of the flames, because he always liked to get ahead of himself when he hadn’t even mastered a perfect circle.

“You didn’t,” she said, yawning, plopping down on the floor in front of the fire and scooting closer. It’s a far cry from two nights ago, when they’d sat on opposite sides of the flames. Rin had come to learn that Shiemi got much less worried about propriety when tired. “Warm…”

Rin smiled. Shiemi had always been cute, but right now she was downright adorable. She could always see through him. She could always make him feel at home.

Sometimes he felt guilty, dragging her all over the country. She assured him that she was there for her own reasons. That she wanted to be there.

Rin couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have by his side right now.

“Thank you, Shiemi,” he whispered when her eyes fluttered shut.

She hummed so quietly, Rin didn’t think she completely heard him. That saved him from explaining, at least. That would be a little embarrassing.

Kuro eventually slinked down the stairs, grumbling about being left alone, and curled up draped across both of their laps. 

It was like their own little family.

The idea sent both mourning and a kindling spark of warmth through him. He decided not to think too hard about it and continue shaping Kuro’s lazy tails in the fire.

He fell asleep easier that night. The both of them blushed when they woke up, however. Rin felt like he didn’t mind.

* * *

Izumo didn’t expect it when Okumura and Moriyama appeared at Inari. She really should have—they had even sent a message ahead telling her of their visit. But she was so busy directing the people clearing the destroyed shrine that she didn’t remember until she found them standing at the would-be front gate, looking around in curiosity.

She noticed that they stood a little closer than last time she’d seen them. It wasn’t a surprise, even if they still blushed like school children at the mere insinuation they were an item.

“Izumo!” Okumura, ever the blustering idiot, called out with a grin, running up and barely missing the stray wood plank in his way. He stumbled anyway and waved his arms to regain his balance. Moriyama rushed up to pull him back. She failed, and the both of them tumbled to the ground on top of each other.

Izumo sighed and wondered how much damage this visit might result in. 

“It’s good to see you,” Moriyama said when they’d settled in the tent acting as her room. Okumura took up a place at the stove and made tea—Izumo wouldn’t stop him. She was a bit too tired to offer, and he made the best tea anyway. She did notice how he lit the stove with but a wave of his hand, no real concentration needed. He’d gotten better at controlling his power.

“You’re both doing well,” she answers. She wouldn’t admit aloud that she was relieved to see familiar faces. “How’s the traveling going?”

“We’re doing well,” Moriyama answered. She frowned and pitched her voice lower. “We haven’t found anything. Yet.”

Yet. Like they  _ would  _ find Okumura-sensei. Who was she to deny that?

“Hm. You two seem to be doing  _ very  _ well.”

“Eh?”

“Tea is served!” Okumura, of course, managed to interrupt at the perfect moment. He poured the tea with significantly more grace than when he’d walked through her front gate. “How have you been, Izumo?”

“Busy. If you didn’t see the work I’m getting done on the shrine.”

“Oh, yeah,” he rubbed the back of his head. “We could stick around and help, if you want.” 

Now, in the afternoon light coming through the open door of the tent, she could properly observe their features. Okumura had bags under his eyes. Moriyama’s hair was a mess. They both had a slump in their shoulders, formed by a weight they both wanted to carry.

She knew what that weight felt like. So, as much as she knew that these two only brought chaos with them, she nodded. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Maybe she could get them to rest a little longer before they inevitably returned to the road.

There were several moments Okumura almost toppled the small bit of framework they had prepared due to attempting more than he could really concentrate on. Moriyama covered for him well enough, and Nee admittedly supplied a decent amount of material they could use, as well as set up a tiny garden around her tent for the fun of it. 

The land managed to do it’s work, and the two slept peacefully that night. Izumo snuck out to wander around the construction site. Looking at the two of them, snuggling close in their sleep, made her heart shutter.

It still made her spiteful that Suguro hadn’t called once in all the time since they’d separated.

Consolation came in the fact that all the ties around her fingers were intact and not pulling her apart too much.

So long as they were all safe and sound, she could handle occasional visits between the seclusion. First and foremost was the shrine. Second, offering a place to her friends when they found themselves travel-weary and exhausted.

She slept under the stars that night.

Moriyama and Okumura stayed for almost a week. Surprisingly, they got a lot done once she learned to curb Okumura’s drive to work too hard. She and Moriyama caught up while he cooked and fed all of the workers.

Izumo didn’t dare look back. That way layed mistakes and late nights. Instead, where they focused on chasing the past, she worked on creating a future. 

That was what she told herself. She tried to believe it.

She tried not to concentrate too hard on the last words they said to each other. Tried not to remember how much she regretted it. 

Tried not to contemplate the consequences of their decision—the one she  _ didn’t  _ regret,  _ couldn’t  _ regret, because it was saving the people she cared about and that would never be an action worthy of regret.

In the end, she said goodbye, unable to tie them down any longer no matter how many nights of good sleep and safety she offered. They had their goal, and she had hers. Life went on, and the world changed without them.

Maybe, one day, they would be used to this. Used to the separation. Used to living with the pain and the hole in their hearts that came with the missing. 

Used to regret, though she wasn’t thinking too hard about that.

* * *

Midori was a beautiful child.

Bright eyes, brown hair, and just as wild as her father.

Shiemi smiled and watched the five-year-old sneak up on her father. She tip-toed silently on quiet feet. Rin was absorbed in tending to a pot of herbs, and Midori was going to take full advantage of that, her own dirt covered hands held in front of her for the perfect moment to strike.

Rin yawned—it was still early morning after all. 

Midori pounced.

“Ack—Midori!”

“Hahaha! I got ya papa!”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung from his side, hold tight and at just the right angle Rin was having trouble prying her off. 

Shiemi laughed.

“Shiemi, save me!” He waved one hand at her, the other reaching behind his back to try and tug Midori away. “I’m gonna die!”

Midori giggled herself silly as he swung her around.

This was how they usually started their mornings. 

Rin cooked breakfast and prepared lunch before descending to the village below their secluded house with the day’s new orders. Shiemi would show Midori how to make the vines grow properly and weed the gardens. Midori would pout that her dad wasn’t home yet and pull her mother into games until Rin got home and made dinner.

They would curl up together, perfectly peaceful, days of traveling across the entire country on a search they couldn’t completely leave behind.

Not that they forgot.

No, she caught Rin sneaking out of bed to light a fire in the firepit, blue flames rising high and terribly lonely into the sky enough that surely, surely  _ he  _ would see. Surely he would come back.

Rin couldn’t sleep those nights. The mornings after, she would demand he spend the day with Midori while  _ she  _ handle the orders. Rin would protest, but inevitably fail in convincing her otherwise. 

She always came home to him and Midori curled up together, snoring away with identical open mouths. 

She took photos of those moments they were together. So that she and Rin and Midori could remember these peaceful days. And maybe, partially, because surely  _ he  _ would want to know—know about the time she and Midori pulled a prank on Rin, or the time Rin cooked a feast for a princess for Midori’s birthday, or the time Midori took her first steps and rolled around in the potting soil.

She almost hated how much she missed Yuki. After everything, the only thing she wanted was for him to come back so that Rin wouldn’t spend so many nights awake waiting for him. She wanted to be able to answer Midori’s terrifyingly insightful questions to whom her dad was missing. She wanted to be able to introduce Midori to her uncle.

And as much as she missed him… she wanted him to come back as Yuki.

Surely he would.

Surely.

And if he didn’t… she was prepared to protect these peaceful days with everything the last daughter of Shemihaza could give.

* * *

Rin never hated his brother.

Even when Yukio cursed and fought him, even when Yukio berated him for his study habits and his mistakes. Even when Yukio blamed him for their father’s death.

He could never hate his brother. His brother was amazing. Strong. He  _ cared,  _ even if he pretended he didn’t. 

Rin knew Yukio was kind. He wanted to  _ help  _ people, even if they disagreed on the  _ how  _ most of the time.

Rin could never hate his brother.

And it hurt, every night he spent staring at the sky, blue flame a beacon in the night, that the last words he’d spoken to his precious little brother were so angry and frustrated.

If there were one thing Rin regretted in his life, it would be that he’d pretty much failed as an older brother. In protecting, in guiding, in saving.

Now, though… he looked back at his home. The one he’d built himself. 

“You’d like it here, Yukio,” he said aloud. “No one to bother you, except for us. Midori’s amazing. If anyone could get through to you, it would be her.”

He regretted, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to do better. Especially with Shiemi and Midori relying on him.

* * *

Ryuji researched.

He researched and read and dug out as much as he possibly could.

_ Elixir of life. Philosopher’s stone. Research upon research about the search for an all-cure, buried in the results of immortal failures.  _

All he wanted was to save the ones he loved. He didn’t want to lose them again. He swallowed even his own pride, the pride that had always set him at odds with his father, to keep his people safe.

Now, they were in danger, and he wouldn’t be able to die easily unless he gave it more than his best. 

“Suguro.” 

He looked up from the books. Kamiki was glowering at him, despite her pale skin and the shivering in her legs.

“Get up.”

“Not right now, Kamiki—”

“That wasn’t a request. I’m the owner of this house. Now get a move on.”

He sighed and stood. It took much longer to steady himself than it should have, the vision in his one open eye swimming. He never complained about it. It wasn’t a very important thing to complain about—the lack of details in the particular recount he was reading, however, was frustrating beyond reason.

Not that anything they did wasn’t already beyond reason. Like trying to find a way to cheat his friends out of death.

Kamiki ushered him out of the room, through the kitchen, and into the garden. They sat in the sun, breathed fresh air, and didn’t speak a word to each other. Kamiki drew out some cards and they played game after game until Ryuji couldn’t stand it anymore and forcefully excused himself from another rematch. He wearily returned to the mountain of books waiting for him.

“I told you before,” she would say more than once. “I don’t mind dying. Relax for once in your life.”

“Relax?” He would reply with a snort. “Hypocrite.”

That would get a snarl out of her, and off they would go, once more into a verbal match of angry wits and frustrated, painful insults that didn’t mean anything to the other.

She never kicked him out, though he was certain she came close several times. She would gripe and complain and threaten, but never follow through.

“Suguro.”

“Kamiki.”

It was as if their days were on loop, numbered but completely stagnant, the routine moving him into her home and she into his life until he really couldn’t see a different way of doing things until he found a way.

And maybe after… if he could save himself along with them, if he could find a way that would let them live their days together, he might stay and clear out all the books himself.

He tried not to think that far ahead. It wasn’t a guarantee, and if the temptation remained, he might not be able to follow through when it really mattered.

And by Gehenna did it matter.

Kamiki would often tell him it didn’t. She would say she didn’t mind. That she’d taken this burden knowing the consequences, just like he had. He couldn’t help but feel responsible. He was the one to propose the solution and lead them to it.

The way she looked at him every time she said his name made him feel stupid for the idea of it.

He ignored it.

He would find a way, at the cost of his own future if that was what was required.

That was his promise to himself. And he would never give up on it. Not when the others were on the line.

* * *

It was a dance they did around each other.

She would pry at what he was studying this time. He would snap back at her, but explain until she was satisfied. He would poke at her cooking. She would use his surname as a curse and dare him to do better. She would wobble around the shrine with pain in her limbs but no trace of it in her expression. He would ask her if she was okay, framed in his own experiences with their curse. 

It was a stupid dance. A step in the wrong direction, dead ends and false leads, as if they ever had a right to hope to escape the deal in the first place.

Izumo grew tired of it. She grew tired of the aches and exhaustion even sooner.

“Kamiki,” he said without looking up from his books. Only one of his eyes was open, gliding across the pages at a snail’s pace. “Have you eaten?”

She stepped into the living room with a snarl on her lips, “Have you?”

Maybe she was being a bit rude. She woke close to noon and there was a nerve in her back that was making it hard to turn properly. Suguro sighed and closed his book. “Do you want me to cook?”

“It’s my home, I can cook myself.”

He stood anyway and made his way to her side. She had leaned against the doorframe and not moved for the entirety of the conversation. He noticed, like he always did.

“I didn’t ask you to help me,” she muttered, even as he slipped an arm around her waist and she leaned her weight on him until they shuffle their pained way into the kitchen. He helped her into a chair and she crossed her arms and glared.

“What do you want?”

“To cook for myself,” she said.

“Rice and fried fish it is, then.”

She huffed. “Suguro.”

“Yeah?” He said, nonchalant, opening her cabinets and getting the ingredients ready.

“You don’t have to be here.”

He paused. She knew what was coming, but she was determined to give him a piece of her mind.

“What? You want me to leave?” He kept his gaze toward the cabinets. She kept hers on his hands. They shook slightly, veins stark against his skin, ugly and dark and sick. 

“Aren’t there other things you should be doing?”

“No.” He said. “There aren’t.”

“We got into this together. I don’t mind the consequences. I know you don’t—so why do you keep hiding away here? It’s getting annoying.”

He slammed a measuring cup onto the counter. Rice scattered, grains falling to the ground. “That’s wasteful.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he snapped, sweeping up the grains.

Izumo couldn’t let it go.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m trying to find a way to save you two.”

“And not yourself?” She raised her hand, where she felt the insistent tugs of the bindings. She knew he felt them too.

They were wasting away here. She didn’t like to admit it. Usually, she wouldn’t. Izumo wasn’t the type to admit she was weak, that she was lacking, that she was  _ dying.  _ Especially not around Suguro. But time was changing them. Bit by bit, it was taking back what they’d negotiated out of it, and she was growing frustrated at his attitude. “You haven’t left that room or the kitchen in days.”

“I’m on to something,” he deflected. It was his default reasoning when he refused to try and use the life he had to live.

“No,” she said. “You’re desperate.”

That was a low blow, and they both knew it.

“Why are you being like this?” He started, voice raised as much as he could manage with exhaustion tainting his every word.

She was being antagonistic for having just woken up. She knew that. She was in a bad mood, and she tended to drive people mad when in a bad mood.

_ Because I feel like shit  _ wasn’t a real answer, though.

Today was more of a  _ because I’m tired of dancing on eggshells. And I feel like shit. _

The argument brought something of a pulse back into her veins. She hoped it would do the same for him.

“Because that pile of books is getting so high I might not be able to find you in it.”

He growled, frustrated, and turned on the stove.

The rice cooked, and she let her own burning frustration pull the exhaustion from her bones and cover up the insistent prick of pain in the back of her mind.

“Let’s eat outside,” she demanded.

“Sure, sure,” he replied. He was moving more smoothly.

“Sorry,” she spat out. She meant it. That didn’t make apologizing any easier than it ever was.

“Me, too,” he said quietly.

At least they were alive. Maybe they could force each other into living before the past caught up to them.

That’s what she hoped. Maybe he would listen, for once in his life.


	2. Chapter 2




	3. Chapter 3




	4. Chapter 4




End file.
